


For Now And Then

by Polly_Lynn



Series: TARDIS-Verse [17]
Category: Castle
Genre: Angst, F/M, Family, Friends to Lovers, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-22
Updated: 2014-06-22
Packaged: 2018-02-05 19:14:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1829182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Polly_Lynn/pseuds/Polly_Lynn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"They're not here 'together,' of course. He and Kate. Not with . . . pretty much everyone from work in attendance. But he wonders exactly how open their open secret has gotten and if there's even any point to this particular dance tonight. Even if everyone except Ryan and Jenny weren't deep into their cups, he doesn't think there's a single person who wouldn't willingly look the other way for them." A non–episode attached TARDIS-verse installment, set on Kevin and Jenny's first anniversary, though, which is the anniversary of Johanna Beckett's death.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For Now And Then

**Author's Note:**

> The thirteenth TARDIS-verse story, and another set in season 5. It's pretty much a sequel to Until, so a little unusual for the series.

  


* * *

Ryan swears it wasn't his idea and the way Jenny is looking at him—they way she's _been_ looking at him for going on five hours now—strongly suggests it wasn't hers. But everyone insists they all made a date. One year ago tonight they made a date, and here they are.

Here they all are, or at least a healthy proportion of them, thronging the hotel bar and raising a glass to Mr. and Mrs. Ryan on their first anniversary. Raising what amounts to a staggering number of glasses for a school night, actually.

Castle scans the crowd. He can't think of a single wedding guest from the precinct who hasn't at least made an appearance tonight. For most of them, more than an appearance.

It's well past late, considering that they all came right from work. One of those magical days where murder and mayhem and bad behavior seemed to honor the shift change and they all came right from work. And now it's _beyond_ late and the crowd has hardly thinned at all.

It's loud. Deafening, actually, and he's been nodding at what he hopes are the appropriate intervals for the entire length of the story LT has been telling him. A slap on the back sends him halfway into his beer, so he must have missed at least one punchline, though LT doesn't seem to mind.

Something prickles along the back of his neck and his head turns helplessly. And there she is. She's smiling. Not wide, but she's ok. Her body is loose and easy. One foot planted on the floor and one hip propped against the bar stool she and Lanie appear to be sharing while the ME makes a half-hearted effort to fight off Esposito, who seems to think he's putting the moves on her.

They're not here "together," of course. He and Kate. Not with . . . pretty much everyone from work in attendance. But he wonders exactly how open their open secret has gotten and if there's even any point to this particular dance tonight. Even if everyone except Ryan and Jenny weren't deep into their cups, he doesn't think there's a single person who wouldn't willingly look the other way for them.

Probably a good thing given the look she's giving him right now. The look she's giving him pretty much takes the whole point of not being here "together" and grinds it into a fine powder.

It makes him do a mental estimate of exactly how many tragically empty beds there are in this very hotel at this very moment. It makes him almost painfully aware that the two of them could be doing their part to solve that particular crisis. But it's good, too. The look and the smile and the fact that she's knocking back a shot with Grazia are all good.

He didn't know how this would go. He didn't think she'd want to come in the first place. There'd been so much talk—so much build up over the last week—that he'd had an out ready. For her alone or for the two of them together. Whatever she needed, given the date. But she had just shooed him off ahead of her saying she'd see him there.

And here they are. Together and apart and they both know the steps.

He knocks back the rest of his beer and lays a hand on LT's shoulder. He shouts an excuse, but they're all on to the next story anyway and they hardly notice that he's going. It's been long enough. Too long already.

He threads his way through the crowd and makes for the bar. Grazia sees him when he's still half a throng away. She touches Beckett's elbow and there's something more than a nod between them.

Grazia catches the bartender's attention. He sets up two shots, one in front of Beckett, one in front of the barstool Grazia vacates without a look back. He hesitates long enough to merit an annoyed sidelong glance from Kate, and his pulse kicks up a notch, though he wouldn't have thought it possible.

He slides on to the stool at her side and there's a chime as their glasses meet. He leans into her because she's there and he's there and he wouldn't have thought a year ago—even a year ago—that any of this was possible. He leans in and they share a breath.

It's nothing, really, nothing more than they've done a hundred times before in full view of an eager bullpen. In full view of a dozen people with money changing hands on when they'd finally get together.

It's nothing, except it's everything when he leans in and she doesn't pull away and their breath mingles for one moment and another.

"To Johanna," he says quietly. "And her extraordinary daughter."

It's her, and that surprises them both. It's her who leans in and just barely whispers her lips over his cheek.

"To Johanna," she repeats.

* * *

She's the one to move away this time. Too soon, she gives him a look and leaves him at the bar with Lanie telling him a lot more about Esposito and his issues than he ever wanted to know. At least he assumes that's what she's doing. It's deafening and he's never been so grateful for it.

It's late. Late enough that he's thinking about sunrise, even though it's January and a long way off. A long way off, but he wants to see it with her. He wants to see it from the right side. Lanie wanders off at some point and he drifts away from the bar.

She's singing now. They're all singing along to something on the jukebox that he barely recognizes. She's squashed between Esposito and Lanie with Ryan with Jenny clinging on the other side. Kate hits the chorus with such gusto that he'd think she was drunk if it weren't for the determined set of her shoulders and the way she's able to keep Esposito upright without a second thought.

She's not drunk. She's ok. She's ok with a vengeance right now and he's pretty sure she'll fall apart later. Not soon, but later, and he wants to be there. He wants the wheels to come off when he's close by, but it's up to her.

The song ends. An off key crescendo and all of them nodding emphatically at the floor, more or less to the beat. Little knots break apart and a few people actually pull on coats and drift away.

She comes back to him then. It's a small, shadowy table half cut off from the action by the busboy's station. It hasn't been that long and she comes back to him. She sets her empty glass down and he makes good use of the bad light. Covers her fingers with his own.

"Hey." He doesn't quite meet her eyes. He can still hear her voice. High harmony soaring over and above. It's not quite safe at the moment.

"Hey." She flips her hand over. Their palms align and so much for what's safe and what's not. They're not here together, but neither one of them can seem to help themselves. She leans in or he leans in and the tip of his tongue is saying goodbye to the fullness of her lower lip far too soon. But it's too big a risk even in the shadows. Even if every single person here is on their side, it's too big a risk.

She lets out a long sigh and draws away.

"Are you ok?" He doesn't plan to ask it and she doesn't expect it.

It breaks some unspoken agreement between them, but he doesn't flinch and neither does she.

"I'm ok, Castle." She pushes out a breath. "I'm ok for now."

It's amazing to him that she just says it. Let's him know that she won't be. Wants him to know that she won't be.

_For now._ It's amazing to him.

* * *

He doesn't realize it's a plan until money is changing hands. Until there's a slim keycard finding its way into his back pocket along with an actual, heavy duty do-not-duplicate-under-penalty-of-law key. Until he's working along a wall in absolute darkness.

A flashlight pulses at the far side of the room. It pulses once, twice and the windows light up briefly. Perfect oblongs of impenetrable black. He strikes out into the center of the room, eager now.

He stumbles once. Only once where the marble gives way to the parquet of the dance floor they haven't pulled up yet after the last party. He stumbles first and then he stops. One foot, then the other meeting the firm surface and he remembers. He remembers her body against his and the scald of her tears on his lips.

He wonders about the dance floor a minute. He wonders what love stories it's seen unfold in the last year. How many have ended and begun and taken a turn for the impossible. He wonders for a minute and moves on.

He moves on, eager for his own story to unfold. Their story. For more of it to unfold.

It's a certain familiar corner of the room he's after. Familiar in good ways and bad. The bad take hold for just a moment and he turns this way and that, suddenly paranoid about busty redheads with no boundaries.

He makes it without stumbling and smiles at the woman with the flashlight. She's familiar, too, but he can't quite place her. She can place him. She can definitely place him, judging from the way she's looking him up and down.

He's about to ask. She's part of the story, obviously, though not one he knows and he wants to. He wants to know every last detail.

But she breaks the silence and the moment passes by. "Mr. Castle?"

"Yes. Rick. Thank you." It passes by, but he feels like it's still a test. Like this woman is wondering whether he's worth anything. "Thank you for doing this."

She smiles, then. Wide and conspiratorial and he feels like he passed. "No problem."

Her name is Tracy and she shows him everything in record time. How to work the lights and the sound system. The right order to open and close the doors so they don't trigger the security system. She ends with two safe routes out of there—one exit to the courtyard across from the parking garage, the other to a back hallway and a semi-private elevator and a suite if they want it.

He thanks her again and tries to press money into her hand, because she's seriously like a machine. She's gotten all this together so quickly and he likes her. She waves him off though. "She was a great tipper and she waited for you a long time that night."

He looks at his watch. Swears silently to himself and looks again. He didn't check the time before he slipped away. Before it started to take shape. Before it was a plan, and now he has no idea how long it's been.

Not too long, he thinks. He hopes.

He hopes it's still _for now_. That she's still ok. That she'll come.

He slips his phone from his pocket and taps it out. The familiar message. He thinks a minute and adds an exclamation point. It's still _for now_.

_Time out!_

* * *

She's not looking for him. She just saw him. She kissed him, for God's sake. He kissed her in a corner that wasn't half dark enough and she _just_ saw him.

But she knows he's gone. He's not anywhere in the bar area and she hardly needs to scan the crowd to confirm. She just knows he's gone.

She's not worried about it. He's gone but he's not _gone._ It's not even a question of him being really gone, but she misses him anyway. However far her orbit takes him from her, she likes knowing he's here. All the time, but especially tonight. Especially tonight.

She's ok. She meant it when he asked and she answered. But she also meant it when she said "for now." It'll unwind. There's nothing she can do about it, but it will all unwind eventually.

But she's proud of herself. At least in the moments that she lets herself be. She's proud that it's been a day of good memories. They've come in fits and starts and fragments. Blurted out over coffee and trailing off into "I'll tell you later" when the walls went blurry and her throat was suddenly thick.

She's proud of that, too, because she means it. She means to end the day with him. To take him home or let him take her. She means for the first time in a decade and a half to fill the very last moments of her day with something, not nothing.

So maybe she _is_ looking for him. Maybe she is because it's late and it feels like he's been gone forever and this is important. She's not going looking for him yet, but she will be.

She's all alone on one side of the tiny booth, across from Lanie and Esposito who don't even seem to be pretending tonight.

They're not even pretending that there's nothing going on and she's glad for them. They're sniping and tugging and pushing and pulling at each other and it makes her smile until her cheeks ache.

They're arguing about something. All of them, in theory, but Kate can hardly hear either of them. She sips at her water and laughs in the right places and tries not to look like she's looking for him.

Ryan and Jenny crowd around at some point and they still have it. That bulletproof happiness. That incredible _light_ and she's smiling harder.

They're telling a story. Ryan and Esposito tag-teaming each other. It's something embarrassing and a little raunchy from the wedding that she hadn't heard. Jenny's scolding them both and Lanie's pounding the table, helpless with laughter.

It's perfect. She's thinking it's just about perfect when her phone buzzes. When the screen lights up under her palm and she sees it. She sees it and then it's perfect.

_Time out!_

* * *

He perches on the window sill and waits. Gives her three minutes exactly to extract herself from wherever she is and then it's a steady barrage. A map with his location pinned. A picture of the curtained off archway. A triptych of pictures of the ballroom with treasure mark scrawls across it. An instagram filter that makes the room look like something out of _Clue._ He sends them one by one and waits.

The door opens before too long. A slant of light while she slips through and his heart speeds up.

"Castle?" She calls out softly as the dark closes up behind her.

"Here." He pulls the curtain back, but the low light isn't quite enough. He taps the flashlight app on his phone and heads for her.

She stumbles at the edge of the dance floor and he catches her hand. He catches sight of their feet crosscutting the right angles in the wood and he pulls her to him. One arm, then the other, goes around her waist and they're cheek to cheek, swaying in the quiet dark.

"Still ok?" He asks after a couple of turns and she nods against his shoulder.

"Good," he whispers. Kisses her temple. "Because I have actual music. Come on."

He leads her back to their little corner. Laughs when she pulls back each drapery and combs through the potted palm. He knows she's looking for redheads, too.

She leans a hip against the wall and looks him up and down. "I believe I was promised music?"

"You were." He nods and heads for the cabinet.

She crashes into him halfway through the second bar of _The Way You Look Tonight_ and she's smiling against the front of his shirt. He's murmuring in her ear. Stories and memories and tall tales about the wedding. The last year. Tomorrow. She laughs and tells her own. Makes him work for the most ridiculous details. Tells him which things never could have happened and why.

The song changes and she kisses him. It's like coming full circle. Her mouth on his and and his body under her hands while the music winds around them. It's slow and lazy and such a relief. Such a relief that he's not pulling away, and she's not pulling away. Such a relief that she's ready and he waited and they're finally here. She kisses him and it's like anything could happen. Anything at all.

There's another song and another and they both lose count. He's kissing her slowly. Between words, and she realizes he's asking her something.

"Hmmm?" Her eyes flutter open.

"Asked if you were tired. Taking that as a yes." He laughs softly and kisses her nose.

"We can go." He kisses her cheek. "Home. Or upstairs."

He lets one arm slip free of her waist and lifts the other high. He turns her half way and reels her back in, back to front, with her arm across her body and her head tipped back and he's kissing her.

He pulls back, breathless but determined. "I can walk you to your door or tuck you into bed upstairs and say good night."

He turns her to face him again. Slides his thumbs along her jaw. "Whatever you want, Kate. Whatever you need."

She steps into him. Buries her face in his chest and stills.

He holds her. Hums a tune in her ear and just waits. He can wait all night if she needs him to.

"Do you have it?" She says it after such a long time that it startles them both a little.

"It?" He asks gently.

"The song. Peggy Lee." She looks up at him and her eyes are shining, but the tears haven't fallen. "I know you, Castle. You _must_ have it."

"Yeah." He smiles. _She knows him_. He likes that. "I wasn't sure if . . . but I have it."

"Good," she breathes. "Good. One more dance."

"One more," he agrees. He sets the song to play and turns back to her. "And then, whatever you . . ."

"And then . . ." She steps into his arms. Knots her fingers behind his neck and kisses him. Presses a sudden, wide smile against his lips. "And then . . ."

  



End file.
